


And those who were considered to be wise

by Caers



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:50:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caers/pseuds/Caers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for  mcsheplets on LJ.  Worked from the prompts: <br/>they're both really tired, exhausted even, but one kiss turns in to two turns into more and before you know it they're having unintentional sex. (telesilla)<br/>I would like to see a AU where Rodney is a furling descendant, as a way to explain the IQ and understanding of Ancient tech. (enkelimain)<br/>and<br/>Boys in eyeliner/drag. Be it for the city play, a custom of some planet, or just a dirty secret, I want to see it. (chokolattejedi)<br/>Without those prompts, I may not have er, written anything at all so thank you all three of you! Especially enkelimain whose prompt the entire thing is written from.</p>
<p>Title is a quote from The Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And those who were considered to be wise

“Look, from what I can tell, they were sort of the next evolution of humans, after the Lanteans but before us.” Rodney scrolls down on the datapad and holds it in front of John's eyes, confident that he will recognise the importance of this information. “The Ancients encouraged their evolution, just like they did with us.”

“And look how well that turned out,” John mutters, pushing it out of the way so he can finish eating. “They died out or vanished, or whatever.”

Or not. He'd thought it would be another aspect to add to their friendship. Both descendants of ancient races, bearing the last of their genetic material. Superior in some ways. Definitely more intelligent. 

“Actually, I think the Lanteans did something to them.” Rodney hums and scrolls down more. “I haven't gotten to that part yet. But there are mentions of experimentation, to bring them closer to the Ancients level of evolution.”

Not that the Ancients were better. Just, older. Had had more time to evolve.

“So not only did they help create the Furling, but they may have been experimenting on them as well?”

“Seems so.” Rodney frowns at the screen. “In order to get them accepted as part of the Alliance with the Nox and the Asgard,” he adds. “Although why my ancestors would have needed help is beyond me.”

“Great. You know, you can just stop telling me about the Ancient's history. I like them less the more I hear about them.” His eyes flick up to Rodney's face, then quickly back to his food. 

“Oh!” Rodney jumps up as he spots Jennifer across the mess hall. He hurries to her, joins her in line, shoves the datapad into her hands, because yes, surely, his girlfriend and a doctor, the doctor who made the connection, she would want to hear this. “Look what these bastards did to my ancestors,” he tells her.

“Rodney, you have a very small amount of their DNA in you,” Jennifer sighs, handing it back. “You're closer to an ape than you are to the Furling.”

And again, or not.

“Yes yes, not the point.” Rodney dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “I'm part alien! And the Lanteans performed experiments on my people!” 

Jennifer just rolls her eyes. “How much coffee have you had today, Rodney?”

“Oh. Uh, not much? Do you mean just from midnight until now, or...” It's a petty distinction, perhaps, but sometimes that could be so important.

“In the last two hours?”

“Not much,” Rodney answers promptly, because not much may or may not equal a pot or two, and ah, didn't feel like listening to another lecture. “I have to go. Um, experiments. Not on humans! Or any other race! Because unlike some races, I am so above that.” He hurries off, his eyes on the screen in his hands, finding it infinitely more interesting than the people around him.

* * *

“Genetic memory!” he announces, rushing past the still opening doors of Jennifer's quarters, stopping momentarily in the blackness to orient himself.

“Rodney?” she calls out.

He hurries to her bedside, his fingers brushing hers as he switches on the lamp she keeps there.

“They had genetic memory!” He sits on the edge of the bed, waving the datapad at her. “I always, well, understood science. Physics made sense to me, except when idiots screwed it up so it didn't make sense, and of course---”

“Rodney.” Jennifer blinks at him, looking half asleep and confused. 

“Look.” He tries to slow down, to explain it so she'll understand. “I don't know how the Lanteans managed to do it, but. I mean, it makes sense, one of the reasons why I'm such a genius. Not all of them could access it, there was a skill and a talent for doing that and---”

“Rodney!” The irritation in Jennifer's voice makes Rodney's head snap up, frowning at her.

He looks around, then down at his nightclothes, to Jennifer in her bed, and closes his mouth. “Did I wake you up?” he asks, shoulders sagging. And, damn. Again with the bad timing. 

“Yes,” Jennifer answers. “Can't this wait until tomorrow, Rodney?”

He stands quickly, drops the datapad in his robe pocket. “Yes, of course. Sorry. I'm sorry I woke you up. I'll uh, I'll go.”

“I'll see you at breakfast.” 

The light is off before he even makes it to the door, and he hurries out, but his mind is already off of his gaffe, pouring over the possibilities of genetic memory.

* * *

“Is there something you'd like to tell me?” 

John's voice startles Rodney and he jumps, streaks the eyeliner down one cheek. He frowns at John in the mirror and grabs a cloth, wipes it off, and starts again. It's important to get this right. 

“I found a picture of a Furling. Sort of.” He paints the thin line under one eye, looks past his reflection to John, catches him staring, an odd look on his face. He's been seeing that look from John a lot lately. He focusses back on the task at hand, trying not to think too much about it. “In that database I've been reading through, the one SG1 found?” 

He hears John walk across his quarters, picking up various things along the way.

“Yeah, the one you haven't stopped telling me about for the last week? So they wore eyeliner and you want to as well?”

Rodney holds back his glare, but only because he doesn't want to smudge the eyeliner before it dries, and he does not want to do it again. “No, not like, all the time. But I should embrace my cultural heritage, since I'm the only one left. Well, apart from Jeannie, and probably Madison, but they'll never be told about this. I'm the only one left to carry on the traditions of my people.”

“McKay...” John trails off when Rodney comes out of the bathroom, the eyeliner finally finished. John's holding the datapad in his hand and he glances down at it, then back up at Rodney, who draws himself up defensively. “Actually McKay, it kinda suits you,” he says, face too blank for Rodney to read. He hands back the datapad, fingers just brushing over Rodney's knuckles.

“Hm.” Rodney smiles, deciding to take the compliment for what it is. “I got bored of the history so I skipped ahead to their cultural practices. They celebrated intelligence above everything else. Whoever built the biggest laser gun ruled, so to say. I'll read the rest of the history the next time I can't sleep.”

“Which is what, died out? Eradicated by the Ancient experimentation?” John visibly tries to supress a shudder at the thought. 

“I'll tell you when I get to it,” Rodney promises, excitement bubbling up to manifest as a wide grin.

“Why don't you tell Keller,” John suggests, his eyes looking everywhere but at Rodney. “History has never really been one of my strong points.”

“She uh, kind of forbade me from discussing it after I woke her up in the middle of the night.” Rodney fiddles for a moment, more embarrassed that his own girlfriend doesn't care than he is for getting told off and kicked out of her quarters for waking her up.

“I hope you learned a lesson from that.” 

“Yes?” Rodney's mouth slants down because he knows he should have learned some valuable life lesson but isn't sure what it is. 

“Good.” John leaves on that note, and Rodney suddenly thinks he should have woken John up to discuss it. Maybe next time. 

* * *

It turns out that Jennifer isn't as accepting of his new culture as he had hoped she would be. After rearranging his quarters to display some artwork he's managed to have replicated, and after having some new clothing designed from pictures in the database of male and female attire for him and Jennifer, and after instructing- no no, ordering- him not to wear eyeliner in public anymore, she gives it up as a lost cause and ends the relationship.

Rodney feels inexplicably relieved, and disappointed. On one hand, he no longer has to pretend to be who he isn't. On the other hand, no regular sex. He moves on, throwing himself into his work and his research.

Which gives him some solace. He learns the customs of the race whose genetic material he bears, he learns their history, how they split off from the Lanteans and travelled, until the Lanteans met up with them again in a distant galaxy. The Furling, by then a strong race occupying a solar system with three habitable planets, rejoined their former allies, only to become subject to their experiments once again. 

Rodney goggles at the pictures in the database. The wiry people, the long white hair, the curling, curving black marks over their skin so like tattoos, the black still rimming their eyes. 

“Oh god,” he whispers, and skims over the next several pages until he comes to what he expects to find. He runs to the quarters of the only person he can trust with this information. “Sheppard,” he says, bursting into his quarters, out of breath. 

John's so startled that he wakes with a jolt and falls off the edge of the bed; he pops up a second later and shoots a glare at Rodney. “Now I see why she found it so fucking irritating,” he snaps, pointing to the clock on the bedside stand as he grabs the nearest shirt and yanks it on. "You can't just come barging into my room like this!"

“I know, I know!” Rodney acknowledges, waving his hands to get that out of his way, and also taking a moment to take in the hair that looks more sentient than the last time he saw it, as well as the flush on John's cheeks. “Look, I'm sorry you're so delicate about your state of undress, but you have to hear this!” he continues, almost vibrating with stunned excitement, clutching the datapad. “Sheppard, John, it's about the experiments the Lanteans did to the Furling!”

John freezes for a moment, eyes fixed on Rodney's face; then he rubs a hand over his own face and sighs, sits heavily on the bed. “Okay, since you'll probably go away faster if I just let you say it.” 

“The Furling left the Milky Way, and that ended the Alliance.” Rodney begins pacing as he speaks, hands waving and punctuating his words. “They came here, John, to Pegasus! I don't know which system, but it had one star and three habitable planets. There's no co-ordinates in here yet. They evolved on their own for a while, and then the Ancients showed up again, presumably on Atlantis. They hooked up with the Furling and started up their experiments again.” He finds the terrifying, damning picture and shows it to John. “Who does that look like?”

John blinks up at Rodney a few times, then leans closer to look at the screen. “The humanised Wraith,” he finally says. “McKay...”

“It explains why the treatment wouldn't stick. They're close to human, but not quite. Close to Ancient, but still not close enough. It's why human DNA wouldn't work, and neither would your genetic material. The Wraith aren't Lantean or Human and Iratus crossbreeds; they're the Furling with Iratus bug DNA spliced in.”

“You're kidding me.”

“Sheppard, I'm related to the Wraith!” Rodney cries, eyes wide, and why, why doesn't he see the enormity of this? He stares down at John, expecting ...something, and just sees that look again, the one he can't place. “Why would I kid about something like this?”

“McKay you are not related to the Wraith. Okay, you kind of are, but just. Hold on. You woke me up.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. 

Rodney stops his oncoming rant, pulls himself up. This, things like this, ended his relationship with Jennifer. Is he risking his friendship with John now? “Oh. Um. Should I...?” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. Because he can learn, he can, and if he goes now, maybe John won't be so upset. Losing a girlfriend is one thing. Losing this, this friendship, with John, this is not acceptable.

“No, no.” John stands slowly, wanders over to his desk and turns the kettle on, pulls on his robe whilst he's there. “Let me make some coffee, okay? I can't handle one of your freakouts half asleep.”

Coffee? “I could do with coffee,” Rodney says hesitantly, and gets a glare in return. “And what do you mean, freakout? I'm not. Well, okay, I am, yes, but with good reason!”

John stays quiet as he measures the coffee into the carafe, and pours the water in, and Rodney paces, trying to keep his mouth shut and casting glances at John as they wait for it to brew, as John pours it out and hands over a mug. 

“It took a couple of generations to really get it, well, right,” Rodney says after the first sip. “By the time the Lanteans had figured out what they'd done, the second mutation had already bred, and the Wraith race itself had, well, already been born. And since either sex of the Furling could bear children, and they didn't want to risk missing one who was pregnant, the Lanteans destroyed all three planets, effectively killing off the Furling race, as well as - they thought - the Wraith. Only obviously enough had survived. Which kind of explains why the Wraith hated the Ancients so much. I mean, wouldn't you?” 

And he does, he feels a deep ache, as if now that he knows it's happened, he remembers the pain of being betrayed and changed into something so vile. He can almost see in his mind the way the Lanteans came to the Furling, promising abilities and a path to greatness, only to give them a route straight to a nightmare. He looks at John, the descendant of the people who did that to his ancestors, and it strikes him how strange life is, how they seem to be the strongest gene carriers of their respective races, and how they could never, never even think of doing something like this to each other. He looks away when John meets his eyes, something else spreading in his chest, erasing that ache.

He waits as Johns finishes his coffee, processing the information. “So the Ancients modify the Furling to breed the Wraith, decide it's a bad idea, and kill one race to kill off another, only it didn't work, and they were, essentially, killed off by the race they created.”

“We knew the Ancients created the Wraith, and that yes, they were nearly wiped out by them. But this, John, this gives us a whole new dimension to the conflict!” And, he suddenly thinks, maybe they deserved it. Payment in kind.

“And just how long ago was this?”

“I don't know, the Lanteans were pretty loose with time. I don't think they really cared. It's hard to tell.”

“Well, I was wondering if Todd knows any of this. I mean, he's pretty old, right?”

Rodney shudders just at the mention of the Wraith. Genetic cousins, siblings, whatever, he doesn't care. They're still creepy. “I don't know. Maybe. Look, can we not talk about him? I'm having a hard enough time dealing with a loose relation to the Wraith. I can't think of being related to any in particular, especially one who may have been around at the time this happened.”

He stops pacing and sags. “John, the Ancients destroyed my race. I mean, they might still be around now if, if not for this. And I'm living in the city of the people who committed genocide, who changed my ancestors, who doomed this galaxy. I, don't know what to do.”

“You do what you always do,” John advises, and his hand resting on Rodney's shoulder is a comfort in a way he's come to expect only from John, his eyes practically forcing their sincerity on Rodney. “You use the city to protect the people who can't protect themselves, McKay.”

“The Wraith didn't ask to be like this.” 

“Get Carson back here to change the treatment using your DNA,” John suggests.

Rodney stares at him, and it's like a lightbulb goes off in his mind. He rushes out, halfway back to his quarters before he realises he left John without a reply. It's a relief to have some recourse now, permission from the only person whose advice he'd take, and he continues on his way to get started.

* * *

In the end, Rodney's DNA is too thin for the treatment to be any more effective than anyone else's. But Todd seems intensely interested in the new history and Rodney's apparent relation to the Wraith. Which could never bode well under any circumstances. 

Rodney's exhausted from the latest mission, trying to round up the treated Wraith who reverted and escaped, and he heads back to his quarters, strips off down to his boxers and starts the coffee maker so it'll be ready when he gets out of the shower. Coffee and sleep, that's all he really cares about.

The door chimes and opens before he can tell whoever it is to go away. Which turns out alright since it's only John, still in his BDUs, looking just as tired as the rest of them feel.

“Hey. I came to make sure you were alright,” he says to Rodney, hands shoved in his pockets. “I know you wanted this to work.”

“I can't fix everything,” Rodney says bitterly, looking down at his hands, at the numerous puncture marks in his arms from the needle jabs where Carson took vial after vial of blood. He did want it to work, to have something back. “No one can.”   
“I know. I just, wanted to see if you knew.” He takes a step closer, into Rodney's personal space, and reaches up to wipe away a smudge of eyeliner. “Noticed that earlier. Thought you weren't wearing it on missions.”

“It's my heritage,” Rodney defends, raising his chin in defiance. “I'm a civilian anyway, I can wear it if I want.” Yes, but a part of him also wants acceptance for it, wants John's acceptance, and it's stupid maybe, but it's also the way it is.

“Not protesting,” John says softly, his hand resting on Rodney's neck. “Just saying.”

And, uh, what? He sees something in John's eyes, a softness, more than being tired, more than, more than friendship maybe, and he's so tired himself that maybe he's misunderstanding it and... “I was about to have a shower, so I'll catch up to you...” He starts, trying to end the moment before he makes an idiot of himself, but he's cut off by a soft kiss which only lasts a moment, followed by another, fractionally longer. 

“I like it,” John says. “The eyeliner, I mean. If you want to express your, uh, culture, then...”

Rodney cuts him off this time, and his kiss has definite intent, his hands reaching out to rest on John's hips and pull him closer, and he isn't letting this slip away, won't let John or himself say something that becomes an excuse, that makes this just a kiss between friends. 

“Stay,” he asks, a whisper against John's lips.

John stays. And in the morning Rodney wakes up to see John wearing his traditional clothing, which are way too big, slipping off his hips as he tries to apply the eyeliner, and he decides he likes it on John just as much as he likes it on himself.


End file.
